Captivated
by The Muses of Mars
Summary: Setzer Gabbiani is the only man in the world with an airship - and the Returners need it to fight the forces of the Empire. But the renowned gambler's aid comes with a hefty price tag: Celes Chere.


General Chere nearly tripped on her ivory satin gown in her high heels as she was dragged along a narrow hallway at a speed ill-advised for a woman wearing such impractical shoes. An hour ago she had shyly smoothed her palms over the gilded fabric of the heavy brocade dress and marveled at its softness—a luxury to which she, as a soldier, was unaccustomed. Now she grasped her skirt in clenched hands and cursed its useless weight and senseless frills. Not that her captor was handling her with excessive force; on the contrary, his fingers were cuffing her arm with more care than she now gripped her gown. But the handsome couple was in a bit of a hurry, as he was in the process of kidnapping her from a very public venue and no doubt countless adoring fans were racing to her rescue at this very moment. Not that any such endeavor would likely prove fruitful, seeing as they were flying through the air in a vessel that by all accounts should be sea-bound. But then that was her reason for being here—her true reason: the airship.

Celes was pulled around a sharp corner and nearly ran into her captor as he paused to thrust open an unexpected door. He gave her a gentle push into a small but lavish room, barely taking a moment to instruct her, "Wait here," before he was gone again, closing the door behind him and audibly locking it.

The imposter diva had no choice but to do as he had requested. She knew her comrades were on their way to "rescue" her, but they would likely wait until the owner of the ship had had time to relax and get this voyage under way. Doubtless they were already aboard the ship, but they would have to remain in hiding until perhaps nightfall, when the notorious gambler was drowsy with wine after toasting his "conquest."

Celes stepped out of her dressy stage heels and walked further into the room. The carpet was plush beneath her bare feet. There was a large sofa against the opposite wall, with two lounge chairs facing it. A coffee table in the middle of the ensemble was adorned with a vase from which sprang a single orchid. An ornamental fireplace decorated one wall while a large painting adorned another. On the far side of the room the carpet gave way to parquet flooring, where a small bar made quite a charming addition to the cozy den setting. Clearly this room was used for intimate gatherings, and made Celes wonder about what sort of company the gambler might keep.

There was nothing else to do so she sat down on one end of the sofa to wait, and presently she heard the lock being turned by a key. Setzer Gabbiani walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He carried what seemed to be a scroll of parchment and an ink well (a forced marriage contract, perhaps?), and he had removed his bulky coat, now presenting in a cream-colored silk shirt with ruffles at the chest and wrists—the impressive former from which Celes tried in vain to avert her eyes.

Setzer Gabbiani was not the sort of man she had expected to meet. After the theater director had told her of the threatening letter he had received from the man, which had made clear the notorious gambler's intention to abduct celebrated opera goddess Maria Draco during her next performance, Celes had expected only the most dastardly of villains to appear. But with his graceful movements, soft voice, and boundless flaxen tresses, Setzer would make a much more believable actor than a criminal bent on kidnapping the star of the Jidoor Opera House.

"I'm pleased to see you've made yourself comfortable," the gambler said, his eyes dancing and a smile on his lips as he side-stepped Celes's shoes and moved into the lounge to be with her.

"I hope I've not been too informal," she replied in a saccharine tone. "I'd stood in those heels from the first to the third act before you…liberated me."

He chuckled at her sarcasm, looking pleased nonetheless. "Not that you didn't look stunning on that balcony with a painted backdrop of a thousand twinkling stars," he purred, gliding closer, "but I thought you could do with a change of scenery. And perhaps the embrace of a different man's arms…"

"I didn't think you brought me here just to talk."

"All in good time, my lily. For now I have something I'd like to show you," Setzer countered, setting the ink pot down on the coffee table before unrolling the parchment he held.

Celes swallowed and tried to compose herself. She knew he thought she was the famed opera singer Maria Draco, so if he forced her into a marriage contract, at least it would not be her own name she signed and thus invalid and not legally binding. Still, the thought of being married to such a surprisingly charming and excessively wealthy man like Setzer Gabbiani… Well, it was almost like some fairy tale. But a ridiculous notion, obviously.

She needn't have concerned herself, either way; the paper turned out to be a promotional poster for some past triumph of Maria's, the songbird shown in a crimson gown and fleeing a shadowy figure as she sang out an exaggerated cry for help.

Celes looked up at Setzer blankly.

"I-I know you must hear this all the time," he stammered with disarming bashfulness, "but…I'm your biggest fan." He wasn't blushing, but his smile was swoonworthy all on its own as he looked down at her and displayed the advertisement. "Would you…do me the honor?"

Celes continued to stare vacantly up at him, until his gaze shifted to the bottle of ink. "Oh!" She started as the realization came to her that Setzer was asking not for her hand in marriage, but for Maria's autograph.

She flushed, partly because of the assumption she'd made, and partly because she now had to forge Maria's signature on what was clearly a prized possession of the gambler's. He would be most disappointed with her when he found out the truth, she knew; but would he be upset enough to refuse the Returners the use of his airship?

Celes lifted the quill from the bottle, dabbing away the excess ink against its mouth as Setzer spread the poster out on the coffee table for her. She almost asked where she should sign, but a starlet would have been used to placating her fans and such a question would arouse suspicion.

She chose the bottom right corner of the page, scrawling the name "Maria" conspicuously across the pale gray stones of the castle shown in the artwork, then added a little heart after the last letter for effect. It wasn't exactly personalized, but then, they hardly knew each other.

Celes looked up at him and Setzer's expression showed he was delighted. He held the poster up to admire it as she dropped the quill back into the pot with a silent sigh of relief.

"This is lovely, Maria!" he exclaimed. "I'll frame it the instant the ink has dried!"

Celes fidgeted. "How…flattering."

"Then I'll hang it in the gallery with the others."

Her eyes widened and her head turned sharply to follow his stride across the room. "Others?" she croaked.

"Ah, yes," Setzer laughed, laying the poster down on the bar counter and pinning it into place with two heavy bottles of ruby red wine. "I have one from every show you've ever performed, Maria. Of course, I've seen them all—all of your performances. Not just one showing but every appearance of every single opera you've ever starred in." He moved behind the counter and opened a cabinet to procure a pair of crystal-stemmed glasses. "On the last night of each production, I take the poster from the playhouse display to keep. I have an entire gallery dedicated to them. And other souvenirs."

Celes prayed there were no other signatures against which he might compare the one she'd just forged. "Other souvenirs?" she repeated fearfully.

"Oh, yes! Ticket stubs, handbills, music scores…" Setzer uncorked a bottle of champagne, filling the two glasses he'd selected as they conversed. "Usually I prefer the balcony, but one night I couldn't restrain myself and I got a front-row seat, so I could better see your face." He set the bottle down, lifted the glasses from the countertop, and returned to her, this time taking a place beside her on the sofa. She lowered her chin and hoped he wouldn't look at her too closely—but he did. "At the end of the performance I cheered the loudest, and, noticing me, you took the kerchief from your bosom, kissed it, and tossed it to me." He smiled at the memory, gazing at Celes with adoration as he handed her a drink. His voice became husky as he finished his story. "I kissed the stain of your lipstick and imagined I was kissing your mouth."

Celes had to quickly take a sip of the champagne to prevent him from doing just that.

Setzer cleared his throat and set his own glass down on the coffee table. "Anyway," he said, draping his arm along the back of the couch behind her and leaning closer, "the most beautiful memento in my collection finally belongs to me: _you_ , Maria."

Celes gave a nervous laugh. "You sound as though you're _telling_ me that, and not _asking_."

"You're here, aren't you?" he murmured, so close now she felt his soft breath tickling her ear.

She raised her chin to look at him. His face was more youthful than she might have expected for a man as…renowned as Setzer. He couldn't be much more than thirty. But his face was lined with scars. He may have the appearances of a pampered layabout, but clearly the rogue had done some living. "You certainly seem to know how to get what you want, Mr. Gabbiani."

His eyes were on her lips, and he was moving closer. "Call me 'Setzer,' my darling Maria…"

"Don't call me 'Maria'," she retorted without thinking, halting him in his tracks.

He arched a brow curiously, leaning back again. "A stage name? Hmph. I should have guessed." He reached out to steal the glass from her hand, then stretched toward the coffee table to place it beside his.

Celes had to stall. It was so warm in the room it was stifling. Or maybe that was just her.

"I'm not sure how I feel about being added to your little collection," she said, mustering all of her recently-acquired acting skills by imagining how indignant the real Maria should feel (even if her kidnapper was rather suave). She turned a haughty chin away from him, her head held high. "I'm not accustomed to being treated like an object to be possessed."

"Beloved!" Setzer's tone and expression were wounded. "You can't think that's genuinely how I feel about you." He suddenly took hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "You've read my letters—are those not the words of a man in love?" She struggled against his grasp, and his expression deepened into a frown, as though he was realizing something. But he visibly brushed his unspoken thought aside and continued his pleas. "I've told you how I adore you, how I worship you." All his desperate entreating did not draw the response he either wanted or expected, and his fingers slowly loosened on the sleeves of her gown. "You _did_ receive my letters, did you not?"

Had Maria? Celes didn't know, so she decided to tell her own truth. "Only the one in which you threatened to kidnap me during my next performance." She was sure to maintain a demeanor of mild outrage.

But Setzer's face then went pale—even paler than his fair skin already was. He drew his arms away from her as if flinching away. "You never received my letters? But… But I've been writing to you for months! I thought you knew—I thought I'd made my true intentions clear. I—" He covered his beautiful, scarred face with both hands. "Oh, no."

Celes was bewildered. "Had you any intentions other than kidnapping me for your own prize? If so, I've seen no evidence."

He rose from the sofa and staggered a few paces away, sighing heavily before he was able to turn and face her again. "I'm in love with you! I planned to whisk you away and make you my bride."

Celes stood, too, and this time it was no farce as she stared him down angrily. "Tell me once or a thousand times, you have yet to ask for _my_ opinion on the matter!"

"Look around!" Setzer exclaimed, gesturing wildly. "Why should I have ever thought you might refuse? I vowed to take care of you for the rest of your life, and I have the means to do it. With my wealth and this ship—"

She scoffed. "You insult me again, sir. To think my heart could be so easily bought!" Her ire was real.

"Of course not! I would have given you my affection, devoted all my attention to your every need."

"So I were to be kept in this gilded cage, like some pet?" Celes crossed her arms. "With you feeding and dressing me as though I were a mere doll?"

Setzer was taken aback. "Woman, I cannot understand you!"

"And you are no man!" Celes spat back at him. "I've known better thieves who are far more considerate than you!"

"What!?"

Her eyes bulged at his ignorance. "You just _kidnapped me_ and _locked me in a strange room_. A real man wouldn't have to _steal_ a woman's heart to make it his own; a real man would _earn_ it by proving his loyalty."

Setzer's mouth had fallen open at her outburst, but he shut it now and looked at her with a hard expression. She almost feared she had been found out, but then he said, "So that's it. There's someone else."

She didn't reply. Even she was unsure of her relationship with Locke; she hadn't exactly had time to analyze it while they were clashing time and again with the Empire. But that was none of Setzer's concern, was it?

"Well, then I suppose there's nothing I could say that would change your mind." Setzer sounded deeply unhappy. She hoped that this turnabout wouldn't jeopardize their chances of garnering his cooperation. "I'll land the ship and release you." He headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob to say one last thing. "I'm sure you must think I am a complete cad, but I assure you my regard is sincere. I would have never held you here against your will or forced you to do anything you didn't want to do."

Celes relaxed her stance but gently argued, "You will only blind a woman to your true worth if you dazzle her eyes with gold and trinkets."

Surprisingly, he gave her a little half-smile. "I guess I didn't think I was worth much on my own." He left her alone, closing the door again but this time not locking it.


End file.
